The Chosen One arises

This is the first of a trilogy I hope to publish. Yes I am still working on it and have an idea on how to alter the beginning. It will have a sort of prologue for something that happened before now, but this is just a rough copy. I hope you enjoy it.


Chapter one: Dark Finds

In a small village called Cairna, strange events were about to unfold.
The village was small and built of brown stone with dark grey or rust brown slate roofing. It was surrounded by large fields that led to the dense tree line of the surrounding Northern Forest. The ripe golden crops swayed gently, heavy with their laden heads of seed. They rippled like the waves of the sea in the light breeze. The wind was cold and chilled everyone to the bone, reminding farmers of winter’s quick approach. The time for harvesting the crop was rapidly disappearing. The fields were broken in one place by a small track just big enough for a couple of small farm carts to pass. In the wet weather of winter, it was often completely impassable as the mud became so thick you were doomed to become stuck. It was churned up by the continually use of farmers as they proceeded to go to and from their fields or even the Middle City trading for the money to survive another year. Now in the ending of autumn, it was still solid earth, but the recent few rainfalls were starting to take their toll. Large puddles were forming and it would only be a matter of weeks before it was virtually impossible to leave the village. The road ran straight from the Middle City in the Central Plains through the Northern Forest and into the village emerging out of the other side towards the castle. It branched of into smaller streets, weaving between the houses, directing mostly into the centre in a star shape where a well took pride of place. The houses were scattered in an almost random way. It was the only way between the Central Plains and Cairna without taking a treacherous route through the forest. The only result being, that the hiker would get lost and most likely have a rather detrimental meeting with the local predators. The road was pretty much the only link from the Northern Kingdom to the rest of the world. On the road, travelling into the small village was a large train of wagons. The trading wagons came when the fields would be at their emptiest. They were led by a young woman known as Katkah, a friend of the royal family.


It was early in the morning and the sun was only just rising. The sky was a deep blood red, blending into deep purple and then to pale pink as it stretched to the farther horizon. Fluffy clouds were approaching from the sun in a mixture of dark pinks and reds. This was a truly breathtaking sight, but one with a terrible meaning. None in the village took any notice except for one. He was a tall, well built man with medium length, black hair that tossed in the wind. He stood tall with the unmistakable stance of a warrior, feet apart wide, back straight and head held high. His name was given to him because of the small birth mark over his heart which looked like a tattoo, but was not. It was considered an omen of witchcraft by some and a holy mark by others. To him, it was classed as the only mark of his past, that and one other thing. His name was also given to him because of mysterious events in the past. The one thing he never spoke about and knew little about himself. He was known to everyone only as Phoenix. That was the only name he knew. Phoenix looked to be about twenty but was in fact twenty-two years. He stood dressed in a plain black tunic, trousers and cloak. He wore knee length, black leather riding boots over the end of his trousers. His long tunic was belted at the waist by a black leather strap, decorated in silver with an elven design of weaving leaves and branches, a gift from the royal family of the Elves. His gold hilted sword, engraved with a runic message on the blade, hung from his back crossing from the right shoulder to his left hip. A matching dagger was hilted within his right boot. It was not engraved with a message, but had a single blood jasper stone on either side of the hilt. A gift from his adopted father. Phoenix stood on the cliff top that served as the castles back wall, his black cloak flapping gently behind him in the light breeze. The golden clasp of two cats entwined, sparkled at his throat, showing who his loyalty’s lay with. He served the goddess Corrana. None would class Phoenix as a religious fanatic, but he had a strange sort of friendship which meant that the goddess allowed much formality to slip by. He stood just watching the dawn rise over the small village, his face revealing no emotion, but his eyes showing a touch of fear as something stirred inside of him. A feeling he hadn't felt for a long time and one he never welcomed. Slowly, he shook his head and said sadly;
“Blood has been spilt, Death has been summoned and an old enemy awakens yet again to wreak havoc. Evil has come once more to the land. Now only one thing can be done. May the Gods choose wisely”
Phoenix turned away and strode to his waiting horse and the coming of darkness.

Down in the village, people started to wake. Where the village had been peaceful and quiet, it now erupted into the familiar noise of a daily routine. The dogs barked with excitement and leapt around their masters as they prepared for a new day on the fields or among the trees, geese honked and screeched for food and children ran around screaming and laughing whilst their mothers called for them to come back inside for breakfast. The heavy Clydesdale horses stamped there feet, impatient to begin the new days work. Their heavy leather harnesses jingled as they shook. Men shouted and joked to each other, as they readied their horses and equipment, for the days works in the fields ahead, betting each other on whose horses were faster. The feeling of winters approach was becoming more evident with each passing day. The wind chilled the bones and rain was becoming increasingly more frequent. The cold threatened to turn it into snow. The men needed to hurry and bring in the last of their crops, before it was time for the first frosts to fall, else running the risk of their crops being destroyed. Over in the distance, people could be seen setting up tents in the barren fields as Katkah’s train came to a stop. The travelling train and weather brought excitement to the children at the thought of thick snow and curious gifts as the holiday’s approached, but it also brought fear to the adults. Fear of the Wolfdogs who resided in the surrounding woodland.
Women chatted as they met around the village. Gathering water from the well or taking clothes outside to wash or dry. Some were even heading for the few local shops, such as the butchers, the bakers and the seed merchant. The forge had been trickling smoke all night from its tall stone chimney. Now it started pumping the smoke out heavier as the Smith skilfully coaxed its fire into life. A few moments later, the ringing sound of his hammer on the anvil ran clear as he and his two sons worked at repairing the various items brought to them.
Standing in the shelter of the forge was one of the large heavy horses that were used for pulling the ploughs. By the way the smithy was examining its feet, the horse obviously needed new shoes before it could go up to the fields and work. Many of the passing men would point it out and start talking about the unfortunate farmer who owned the great steed and what this was going to cost.

Away on the other side of the village, where the road first enters Cairna, a tall, young girl stepped out of a stable, leading a large, hefty Coloured Cob. She was slim and her skin was a light rosy colour. She had strong blue eyes that never wavered from anyone’s gaze and black hair that shone in the sunlight as if streaked with molten silver, reaching slightly past her shoulders. The strange thing about her was that in her hair, on her right side was a sapphire blue streak, the colour of the ocean. The streak was as wide as a butter knife and framed the right hand side of her face. When she had been born, the streak had caused quite a stir. Many had believed her to be a witch. They had given her and her family a hard time, taunting them, rejecting them and even demanding to have them burnt at the stake. The King had not held with that gossip and refused to give punishment until he saw an actual crime. The people had thrown a fit, until Phoenix had returned home from the Middle City. He had stood before the people and announced, with the head priestess of Corrana from the Middle City by his side, that the child’s death would anger the Goddess deeply. The people, more frightened by the wrath of the goddess then any thought of witches, soon backed down believing they had angered the goddess by threatening her earth bound daughter. When Sahrita had shown no powers, no obvious powers anyway, they had found that she more gave them good luck. Many said that she did have a strange love for cats that caused their belief of being the daughter of the feline goddess to grow stronger. Her friendly nature, ever ready smile and strong wild spirit had put all suspicion aside, even when she spent most of her time riding bareback on her horse and climbing the trees in the forest. Some said that Sahrita could talk to the animals.
She had been named Sahrita after the goddess of luck and was well known around the place as kind, helpful girl and always alert for anything out of place. She was also known to be very protective when things were at risk. Like Corrana, she had a vicious side that equalled her kind side. She could be as dangerous as she could be compassionate.
Sahrita wore a tight black cotton top with flared sleeves and black leather trousers. The people didn’t think it right that she wore trousers. It was believed proper for a woman to wear a dress and the men to wear trousers. A plain belt of brown leather wrapped round her waist, providing support for her weapons. Black, leather, three inch, high-heeled boots came up to her knees and held a dagger on the inside of her right leg. The dagger had a blade of silver and a plain moonstone handle. A smaller version of the sword that hung on her left hip. Both glinted brightly in the early morning sunlight. Weapons made by her own hand.
She received the stones from a merchant called Mantere in Katkah’s train. He would trade the stones for any weapons or figurines she made. Often the stones were used as part of the items she made to trade with Mantere who in turn sold them in the cities and used the gold to buy the stones.

The horse Sahrita led out was slightly taller then her and had deep roan patches amidst the white coat. His tail and mane were both long and smooth. The gelding whinnied softly as she brushed his silky coat.
“Good boy. If we hurry then we might get to go with him.”
Sahrita whispered her voice soft and delicate. On most days, Sahrita would ride through the forest and she would almost always ride without a saddle. Today was one of those days. She took a loose grip of his mane and vaulted easily onto his back, watching the last few wagons of Katkah’s train arrive as she pushed her horse forward. Mostly, she went to see the local herbalist, Brendan, who lived higher up the mountainside. He could see over all of the village and its surrounding fields from where his small cottage was situated.

Your descriptions are breathtaking. You definitely have a talent for that. But, you have a few mistakes, so here goes the nitpicks:

In a small village called Cairna, strange events were about to unfold

.
This is rather cliche and it reveals too much. Leave it as a mystery.

It was churned up by the continually use of farmers

I think you had a typo here. You said continually instead of continual. (I think)

where a well took pride of place.

This is not a nitpick but I wanted to say that I liked the way the well has "Pride of Place" instead of just being there

“Blood has been spilt, Death has been summoned and an old enemy awakens yet again to wreak havoc. Evil has come once more to the land. Now only one thing can be done. May the Gods choose wisely”

Why is Phoenix so special and how does he know these things? Do you reveal that later?

Clydesdale horses stamped there feet, impatient to begin the new days work.

I don't think horses are ever impatient to begin work. Unless these horses are special.

the Smith skilfully coaxed its fire

Here, I think you mean his fire.

daughter of the feline goddess to grow stronger Her friendly nature,

I think you forgot a period between the red words
Your ending is sort of abrupt, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. You might want to end on something about the character. Other than all of that, this is a great story. I can't wait for the rest.

Keep writing,
Keren

Thank you for your comments because it really helps me improve my writing. I do kind of explain the fact Phoenix is important later. He is one of the main characters. I am horrendous with typo as well so picking it up helps. horses vary with loving work, if they get it regularly they do look forward to it cause they get bored otherwise. This story still needs heaps of work and i thank you for any help provided.

You're descriptions are beautiful and paint a perfect picture for me. I love how you describe the characters. Its like I know the characters even though they haven't uttered one single word. Those large paragraphs are very daunting to face... If you don't mind can you split them up into smaller ones? I can't see any typos that Keren didn't point out. I also agree that the ending is very abrupt but I think that you can make a great cliffhanger right there. That is my favorite thing to do in my stories, create gut wrenching cliffhangers at the end of my posts. I really like the story thus far and can't wait to see what happens!

Ok, so I’m here to review for you! Before I get started I want you to know that I might not be able to keep from tearing this apart. It’s not because I’m trying to reduce you to tears or want you to give up, it’s me trying to help you reach the second draft of this story.
So you’re warned.

Chapter one: Dark Finds

In a small village called Cairna, strange events were about to unfold. (I think this sentence could be cut, it sounds a little cliché to me. But that doesn’t mean you should go without a hook to draw the reader in.)
The village was small and built of brown stone with dark grey or rust brown slate roofing. It was surrounded by large fields that led to the dense tree line of the surrounding Northern Forest. The ripe(comma) golden crops swayed gently, heavy with their laden heads of seed. They rippled like the waves of the sea in the light breeze. The wind was cold and chilled everyone to the bone, reminding farmers of winter’s quick approach. The time for harvesting the crop was rapidly disappearing. The fields were broken in one place by a small track just big enough for a couple of small farm carts to pass. In the wet weather of winter, it was often completely impassable as the mud became so thick you(<Just speaking from experience, it’s not very acceptable to use Second Person Point of View when writing from Third Person. I did that a few times in a short story for a class and my teacher marked my grade down for every “you” I used outside of character speech. It’s okay but don’t do it very often in the narrative) were doomed to become stuck. It was churned up by the continually(<continual) use of farmers as they proceeded to go to and from their fields or even (to) the Middle City(comma, to trade) trading for the money to survive another year. Now in the ending of autumn, it was still solid earth, but the recent few rainfalls were starting to take their toll. Large puddles were forming and it would only be a matter of weeks (time? Instead??)before it was virtually impossible to leave the village. The road ran straight from the Middle City in the Central Plains through the Northern Forest and into the village emerging out of the other side towards the castle. It branched of into smaller streets, weaving between the houses, directing mostly into the centre in a star shape where a well took pride of place. The houses were scattered in an almost random way. It was the only way between the Central Plains and Cairna without taking a treacherous route through the forest. The only result being, that (remove “that” and you’re golden) the hiker would get lost and most likely have a rather detrimental meeting with the local predators. The road was pretty much the only link from the Northern Kingdom to the rest of the world. On the road, travelling into the small village was a large train of wagons. The trading wagons came when the fields would be at their emptiest. They were led by a young woman known as Katkah, a friend of the royal family.
(I like the description, in fact it’s really, really good. But I don’t suggest starting a chapter, especially a first chapter, with as much as this all in one clump. It gets tiring after awhile. I’d cut out about half of it, introduce your characters, sprinkle in som dialogue and then have one of them see the rest of the description that you cut out, and their thoughts/opinions, how they feel, what they smell, etc…)


It was early in the morning and the sun was only just rising. The sky was a deep blood red, blending into deep purple and then to pale pink as it stretched to the farther horizon. Fluffy clouds were approaching from the sun in a mixture of dark pinks and reds (<just to give some variety, use some different words for red and pink since you just used them). This was a truly breathtaking sight, but one with a terrible meaning. None in the village took any notice except for one. He was a tall, well built man with medium length, black hair that tossed in the wind. He stood tall with the unmistakable stance of a warrior, feet apart wide, back straight and head held high. His name was given to him because of the small birth mark over his heart which looked like a tattoo, but was not (the “but was not” part is unneeded). It was considered an omen of witchcraft by some and a holy mark by others. To him, it was classed as the only mark of his past, that and one other thing. His name was also given to him because of mysterious events in the past. The one thing he never spoke about and knew little about himself. He was known to everyone only as Phoenix. That was the only name he knew(before I go on. I’m getting a little confused. You were just speaking of Katkah leading a caravan, and then suddenly a whole other person... Are they in the same place or did you abandon Katkah to describe Pheonix?) Phoenix looked to be about twenty but was in fact twenty-two years. He stood dressed in a plain black tunic, trousers and cloak. He wore knee length, black leather riding boots over the end of his trousers. His long tunic was belted at the waist by a black leather strap, decorated in silver with an elven(Elven. It should be capitalized) design of weaving leaves and branches, a gift from the royal family of the Elves. His gold hilted sword, engraved with a runic message on the blade, hung from his back crossing from the right shoulder to his left hip. A matching dagger was hilted(<sheathed? The hilt is the handle the sheathe is what carries it) within his right boot. It was not engraved with a message, but had a single blood jasper stone on either side of the hilt (You’re repeating the word hilt over and over). A gift from his adopted father. Phoenix stood on the cliff top that served as the castles back wall, his black cloak flapping gently behind him in the light breeze. The golden clasp of two cats entwined, sparkled at his throat, showing who his loyalty’s lay with. He served the goddess Corrana. None would class Phoenix as a religious fanatic, but he had a strange sort of friendship which meant that the goddess allowed much formality to slip by. He stood just watching the dawn rise over the small village, his face revealing no emotion, but his eyes showing a touch of fear as something stirred inside of him. A feeling he hadn't felt for a long time and one he never welcomed. Slowly, he shook his head and said sadly;(<:)
(^ so the bit above was a little confusing to read, and seems kind of scattered about. You describe well, yet again, but it’s too much to take in all at once.)
“Blood has been spilt, Death has been summoned and an old enemy awakens yet again to wreak havoc. Evil has come once more to the land. Now only one thing can be done. May the Gods choose wisely” (wisely.” You forgot the period. This sentence is also a fragment. And who is he talking to? just himself?)
Phoenix turned away and strode to his waiting horse and the coming of darkness.
Down in the village, people started to wake(thought they already were since you said before that none of them had taken notice to what was going on in the sky). Where the village had been peaceful and quiet, it now erupted into the familiar noise of a daily routine. The dogs barked with excitement and leapt around their masters as they prepared for a new day on the fields or among the trees, geese honked and screeched for food and children ran around screaming and laughing whilst their mothers called for them to come back inside for breakfast. The heavy Clydesdale horses stamped there feet, impatient to begin the new days work. Their heavy leather harnesses jingled as they shook(shook what? Their manes, tails? Bodies?). Men shouted and joked to each other,(no comma) as they readied their horses and equipment,(no comma) for the days works in the fields ahead, betting each other on whose horses were faster. The feeling of winters approach was becoming more evident with each passing day. The wind chilled the bones and rain was becoming increasingly more frequent. The cold threatened to turn it into snow. (use a different word for cold. You never want your vocabulary to sound repetitive) The men needed to hurry and bring in the last of their crops, before it was time for the first frosts to fall, else running the risk of their crops being destroyed. Over in the distance, people could be seen setting up tents in the barren fields as Katkah’s train came to a stop. The travelling train and weather brought excitement to the children at the thought of thick snow and curious gifts as the holiday’s approached, but it also brought fear to the adults. Fear of the Wolfdogs(<I’m not sure if you meant to combine the two words, but if you did it should have a hyphen i.e.: Wolf-dogs) who resided in the surrounding woodland.
(after reading this far I think I can safely say that you need more breaks between paragraphs, I can’t really tell where one starts and the other begins so it gets a little muddled up and hard to read)
Women chatted as they met around the village. Gathering water from the well or taking clothes outside to wash or dry. (if it’s raining why would they hang clothes out to dry?) Some were even heading for the few local shops, such as the butchers, the bakers and the seed merchant. The forge had been trickling smoke all night from its tall stone chimney. Now it started pumping the smoke out heavier as the Smith skilfully(SKILLFULLY) coaxed its fire into life. A few moments later, the ringing sound of his hammer on the anvil ran clear as he and his two sons worked at repairing the various items brought to them.
Standing in the shelter of the forge was one of the large(comma) heavy horses that were used for pulling the ploughs. By the way the smithy was examining its feet, the horse obviously needed new shoes before it could go up to the fields and work. Many of the passing men would point it out and start talking about the unfortunate farmer who owned the great steed and what this was going to cost.
(You do a great job of describing, I’ll give you that, in fact I’ve repeated that a few times. But in the ^above you focus more on what’s going on in the village and less about your main characters. You haven’t really even introduced them to us, so the bond between reader and character is somewhat weak. You need to make sure that is strong because that’s what’s gonna keep your readers wanting to read more, not the excellent description)

Away on the other side of the village, where the road first enters Cairna, a tall, young girl stepped out of a stable, leading a large, hefty Coloured Cob. She was slim and her skin was a light rosy colour. She had strong blue eyes that never wavered from anyone’s gaze and black hair that shone in the sunlight as if streaked with molten silver, reaching slightly past her shoulders. The strange thing about her was that in her hair, on her right side was a sapphire blue streak, the colour of the ocean. The streak was as wide as a butter knife and framed the right hand side of her face. When she had been born, the streak had caused quite a stir. Many had believed her to be a witch. They had given her and her family a hard time, taunting them, rejecting them and even demanding to have them burnt at the stake. The King had not held with that gossip and refused to give punishment until he saw an actual crime. The people had thrown a fit, until Phoenix had returned home from the Middle City. He had stood before the people and announced, with the head priestess of Corrana from the Middle City by his side, that the child’s death would anger the Goddess deeply. The people, more frightened by the wrath of the goddess then any thought of witches, soon backed down believing they had angered the goddess by threatening her earth bound daughter. When Sahrita had shown no powers, no obvious powers anyway, they had found that she more gave them good luck. Many said that she did have a strange love for cats that caused their belief of being the daughter of the feline goddess to grow stronger. Her friendly nature, ever ready smile and strong wild spirit had put all suspicion aside, even when she spent most of her time riding bareback on her horse and climbing the trees in the forest. Some said that Sahrita could talk to the animals.
She had been named Sahrita after the goddess of luck and was well known around the place as kind, helpful girl and always alert for anything out of place. She was also known to be very protective when things were at risk. Like Corrana, she had a vicious side that equaled(= EQUALED) her kind side. She could be as dangerous as she could be compassionate.
Sahrita wore a tight black cotton top with flared sleeves and black leather trousers. The people didn’t think it right that she wore trousers. It was believed proper for a woman to wear a dress and the men to wear trousers. A plain belt of brown leather wrapped round her waist, providing support for her weapons. Black, leather, three inch, high-heeled boots came up to her knees and held a dagger on the inside of her right leg. The dagger had a blade of silver and a plain moonstone handle. A smaller version of the sword that hung on her left hip. Both glinted brightly in the early morning sunlight. Weapons made by her own hand.
She received the stones from a merchant called Mantere in Katkah’s train. He would trade the stones for any weapons or figurines she made. Often the stones were used as part of the items she made to trade with Mantere who in turn sold them in the cities and used the gold to buy the stones.

The horse Sahrita led out was slightly taller then her and had deep roan patches amidst the white coat. His tail and mane were both long and smooth. The gelding whinnied softly as she brushed his silky coat.
“Good boy. If we hurry then we might get to go with him.”
Sahrita whispered her voice soft and delicate. On most days, Sahrita would ride through the forest and she would almost always ride without a saddle. Today was one of those days. She took a loose grip of his mane and vaulted easily onto his back, watching the last few wagons of Katkah’s train arrive as she pushed her horse forward. Mostly, she went to see the local herbalist, Brendan, who lived higher up the mountainside. He could see over all of the village and its surrounding fields from where his small cottage was situated. (the chapter ended too abruptly for me, it’s almost like I wish there was a little more to read to give me some closure)
Okay so in all I think this is pretty good so far. But because I didn’t really get a lot from your characters and even less of the general direction of where you intend to take us on this story that’s all I really can call it: Good. Nothing very remarkable happened except you hinting on the ominous skies and the marking on Phoenix’s chest. You could definitely add more to this.
So what I think is that you should cut a lot of the needless description and give us more about the people in the story, that’s critical. You should focus less on empty descriptions and give the story more depth, even if it’s an idle conversation between a few characters, like Phoenix remarking on the sky to Katkah (if they are indeed in the same caravan and friends) and discussing what they thought might be happening. Also when you describe, you could add more sensory. You have sight down but the senses go beyond just that. What do they see? What do they smell? Or hear? Or feel? Anything you can think of to make it feel like more than just words on a screen.
But honestly I think this is very good, and with a little tweaking it could be great, or even better. I just need to feel more from these people. Otherwise, I hope you write more despite my picking this apart. If you need anything else or have any questions just shoot me a PM and just let me know, I’d be more than happy to help you out.